For Sale
by paigee.yovkoff
Summary: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn" - Ernest Hemingway. Marty and Kensi deal with the aftermath or losing their unborn child. AU/OC. Established K/D. Angst. Angst. Angst.
1. For Sale

**For Sale  
Chapter One  
Words: **707**  
Couple: **Special Agent Kensi Blye and Detective Marty Deeks**  
TV Show: **NCIS: Los Angeles**  
Disclaimer: **All characters that you recognise belong to Shane Brennan and CBS – all mistakes are mine though**  
AU/OC.  
Established Marty/Kensi.  
WARNING: Angst.**

…

_"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."_

- _Ernest Hemingway_

The house was empty as she walked through the quiet hallways, running her fingers slowly over everything that she passed. They were leaving the house completely furnished, and maybe that was just what she needed. To leave all of this junk behind and start with everything new, nothing in their new home to remind them of what they had lost.

The blood had been cleaned of the floor of the loungeroom; even then she was still haunted when she walked through that room. The bullet wounds in her stomach and shoulder had nearly completely healed, and she was going to be allowed back to work in the next few weeks, hopefully. Both of them were being forced to pass a psych-eval before being permitted back into the field, even though he hadn't ben hurt by this incident, their operations manager was worried for the emotional pain that this event had placed on them.

This house looked as though no one lived in it – besides the furniture that furnished it still – there were no personal photos, no clothing, no knick-knacks placed on random countertops. The house seemed less personal with their being nothing to link them to it. As she passed the bedroom, she stopped for a moment; she stood at th doorway looking in. The bed that sat in the middle of the room looked depressing to her. That was the bed they had spent their nights in after their wedding – both agreeing that they would take a honeymoon when they were confortable in their new (now old) house. The honeymoon still hadn't happened, but she felt sort of glad that it hadn't. Doing it now, after everything? It didn't feel right.

Running her hand down the door frame slowly, one last time, she continued on the trip down the hallway, and stopped once more when she reached the room at the end of the hall. Stepping inside, she looked at the walls that they had painted the pale pink – so cliché she had thought, but no matter what, she had always imagined the room lik that. The crib had been sold nearly a week after it happened, or at least he had told her it had been sold. The woman wouldn't have been surprised if he had used it as target practice, though she knew his temper wasn't that short.

It was the only empty room in the house, and the new tennants said they didn't mind, they had furniture for their daughter that would fit perfectly with the colour of the room, and the space.

_Their daughter_.

The woman's vision was blurring slightly, her eyes filled with now un-shed tears. She couldn't help herself, no matter how hard she tried not to break down, she couldn't do it.

Walking slowly into the room, sh pulled the wardrobe doors open, looking at the empty space that had once been filled with the clothes that would have belonged to a new-born baby girl. Her eyes scanned the small space, stopping when she saw it. They had missed a pair of shoes when they cleared out the room, putting things into the piles of what they were going to sell or give away.

They were small baby slippers, pale pink in colour, and she could have sworn they matched the colour of the walls. With no control over her actions, she slowly sat down, taking the small shoes in her hands. With no idea how they had missed them, she just stared at them, and nothing about them changed. Nothing about the innocence of the shoes changed as she continued to stare at them. Nothing about the ideas of what could have been changed as she continued to stare at them.

Those tears remained un-shed, but the sound of her husband's footsteps coming towards her, and the feel of him sitting down beside her, slipping an arm around her waist and placing a hand over hers, was what started it.

Nothing about those shoes changed as she broke down, because no matter how much she grieved, it wasn't going to change anything.

That little girl was gone before she was brought into the world, and she couldn't change it. There was nothing that was going to change that.

…

_I've decided that if I'm going to write angst, I'm not allowed to listen to sad songs while writing it, or for the next hour after._

_I'm behind on 'Told From Here', and I start school holidays tomorrow, and I'm definitely using them to catch up! Sorry!_

_This is a Kensi/Deeks story – and I know I have a heap of _those_ unfinished – only a couple of chapters and will be nothing but _angst_. But maybe like a little smile at the end. It's just going to be Kensi and Deeks dealing with the loss of their unborn child, and I feel completely crazy for even thinking about writing this._

_Thankyou._

_Review?_**  
**


	2. Awakens

**For Sale  
Chapter Two.  
Words: **721**  
Couple: **Special Agent Kensi Blye and Detective Marty Deeks**  
TV Show: **NCIS: Los Angeles**  
Disclaimer: **All characters that you recognise belong to Shane Brennan and CBS – all mistakes are mine though**  
AU/OC.  
Established Marty/Kensi.  
WARNING: Angst.**

…

_"Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens."_

- _Carl Jung._

Kensi Blye didn't know what it was, but the small home they had moved into didn't feel like home at all. For some reason, this didn't bother her. She woke up every morning as routine, and despite her partner's consent reminded that she was to _relax_, she went for a run.

She had no idea what she had _hoped _to achieve doing this every morning. If it was to clear her head, it failed miserably. The woman had broken down mid-run the very first time, but persisted onwards. She had built up that wall again, the one that had taken so long to be broken down, and it hurt for her team to know that it was going to be a lot harder to push this one down.

Her husband had stepped back. He had stopped pushing, at the expence that she left work at 1900 with him every night, and didn't push herself too hard at work. It went with that routine for weeks before Nate Getz finally pulled them both in for their psych-evals.

Marty Deeks hadn't been looking forward to talking to Nate. He admired the courage that the man had, walking into the mission and poking into the teams lives – even though it was his job, he still had guts to do it – but it didn't mean that he could open up to the man that easily, friend or not.

_"Do you want to talk about it?" Nate had asked him.  
"I've lost my unborn child and my wife has blamed herself for it," the LAPD detective told him, "is there really anything else to talk about?"  
"There is a lot to talk about, maybe how you feel about this entire situation?" he had pressed.  
"I feel as though I've lost a child and I'm slowly losing my wife."  
"Let's start from there and see where we end up."_

He had opened up, eventually. Dodging the topic would only do so much during the hour that he was in the office; he felt raw as every single one of his feelings were thrown out onto the table and dissected until they came to ultimate conclusion. He was greiving, and it was normal.

As though the LAPD detective felt he never needed a professional to tell him that, it was slightly reassuring – somehow. But he never knew how his partner would go with it. Kensi Blye was not going to open up about this as easy as he did.

_"How have you been Kens?" Nate questioned, looking across at where she sat on the opposite seat.  
"I've been better," she shrugged, "it's not like things could get any worse."  
"Care to elaborate on that?" the man's eyebrows raising slightly at her comment.  
"You've read the file Nate, isn't that enough?"  
"It's never enough, Kensi, you know that."_

…

When 1900 came around that night, he found her lying on the couch in the small 'break room' area. If the LAPD detective didn't know any better, he'd say she was asleep.

"Nate's right, it's never enough."

He voice startled him; he had only taken a few more steps towards her when he realized that she was still awake.

"That file isn't enough; he being in gaol isn't enough," she continued, "it will probably never be enough."  
"Kens…"  
"He's right though Marty."  
"Only for the most part, you know that," the LAPD detective said.

His partner shook her head, moving to sit up and look up at him. She had unshed tears in her eyes and dry tear tracks on her cheeks. Sighing he moved to help her stand up, slipping two arms around her waist to hold her so that she was leaning against him.

"It's enough for now, Kens, it's enough for now," he repeated, holding her closer.

She nodded, resting her head in the crook of his neck and slipping her arms around his waist.

"Let's go home," he murmurred, feeling her nod against him.

Marty dropped a kiss on her forehead, stepped back from her for a moment and picked up the bag beside the couch. His wife ran her fingers through her hair, watching him as he moved back to stand at her side with his arm around her waist.

For now it was enough, but she still felt empty and broken. Only for now.

…

_Gaol – the Australian spelling of 'jail'. Not to be confused with the word 'goal'._

_Not entirely happy. I tried to make it so the only dialogue was from their visits with Nate, but then the ending happened._

_(Still haven't updated 'Told From Here', slowly working on it.)_

_Thankyou for all of the reviews on the last chapter!_

_All mistakes are mine._

_Review?_


	3. Open and Close

**For Sale  
Chapter Three.  
Words: **942**  
Couple: **Special Agent Kensi Blye and Detective Marty Deeks**  
TV Show: **NCIS: Los Angeles**  
Disclaimer: **All characters that you recognise belong to Shane Brennan and CBS – all mistakes are mine though**  
AU/OC.  
Established Marty/Kensi.  
WARNING: Angst.**

…

_"The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live."_

- _Flora Whittemore._

It was just a yellow manilla folder. That's all it was. She was still terrified to open it, no matter how innocent the object was supposed to be. She remembered what the older woman had said, having called her into the small area she called her office, "_just in case you ever wanted to know what happened_." Kensi Blye knew what had happened, she didn't need a report written by her team leader to tell her. She remembers, she was the one who had been _shot_.

Nate had said that what was in the file wouldn't be enough to give her closure, and she wondered if he had told Hetty that he had said that. Actually, the NCIS agent wondered a lot of things in the beginning. Why her? Why her baby? Why here husband? Why her family?

_"Something to add Deeks?" G Callen had asked from his place next to his partner.  
"LAPD brought down his organisation from the inside," he explained, "long undercover operation, about a year, had one detective inside with an alias, and another keeping tabs."  
"The detective's alias?" Eric questioned, turning so that he was ready to search for the alias' file.  
"Max Gentry."_

Leaning forward from the couch, her arm wrapped securely around her flat stomach as if protecting it, she pulled the folder closer to the edge of the coffee table, flipping it open to the first page. _Suspect: Charles Stewart._

Charles Stewart's list of priors was long. She wondered why he wasn't just permenantly given a gaol cell, maybe he could renovate the one he was currently in? He was going to be there a while, she had to remind herself of that constantly. He wasn't going to hurt her family – or what was left of it – any more. It was over.

_"Hetty has assigned a protective detail to the house," her husband told her, sighing as she glared at him, "I know you don't think it's needed, but someone has it out for us."  
"Correction, someone has it out for you, and that's normal," she reminded him.  
"Just humour me, please?"  
"I thought Hetty assigned it."  
"At my request."  
"I don't like this," she muttered under her breath, looking out the window finding the protective detail parked across the street.  
"Neither do I, but I can't have anybody hurting you, or our baby," he replied, stepping forward, promising her that it was only until they got Stewart back in gaol, kissed her and told her to be safe before leaving her in the loungeroom._

_Kensi kept busy thoughout the day. She had cleaned the house. She had gone shopping. She took Monty for a walk. She couldn't do anything without that car slowly following her down the street. Only once had she seen the agents in the car exit, and that was when she stopped at the pharmacy. She absolutely hated it._

_Sighing, looking back towards the once more, she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, looked down at her swollen stomach before dialling the number._

_"_Yes Princess?"_ her husband's voice said.  
"When you get home, I'm going to murder you for even suggesting a protective detail to Hetty," she told him.  
"_Then who will massage your feet?_" he questioned, she could hear his smirk.  
"Monty."  
"_You seem so sure Princess_," she heard him chuckle.  
"I'm absolutely sure."_

Flipping the page over, she found her team leader's report on what had happened, followed by her statement and the statement of the two federal agents that had been stationed outside the house. They all told her the same thing – the man knocked out the two agents, then slipped into the house where he confronted her, got into a short altercation – though she felt as though she couldn't call it that when she spent it on the ground the entire time – then shot her twice.

_Her feet slowly padded the floor, making her way through the hallway. She looked in each room as she went, having just finished putting the last of the baby clothes into the nursery. Smiling to herself she stopped in their bedroom for a moment, her eyes skimmed over the usually messy room and instantly felt proud of herself. The NCIS agent continued down the hall, stopping at the kitchen to pull a glass out of the cupboard, and fill it with water._

_As she heard the front door open she smiled, her hand slipping to sit on her stomach, "Deeks, is that you? I thought you weren't going to be home until later?" she called, taking a sip and carrying the glass out to the loungeroom, hoping to be greeted by her husband._

_The butt of a 9mm slapped down across her face, and she fell back against the loungeroom floor, the sound of the glass smashing beside her was ringing in her ears and she felt water droplets hit her as the water left the glass. She felt dazed, blinking her eyes once, twice, before finally closing them. She wasn't unconcious, she could assure you of that, but she was slowly slipping from it. Her eyes opened, everything was blurred, hazed, but she could still see the outline of her attacker standing over her. He shot, the loud noise echoing around the room. Once… Twice…_

_That was when she finally slipped out of conciousness._

She slapped the file closed. Pushing it away from her, and watching it as it slid across the coffee table. Bringing her legs up onto the chair, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her forehead on her knees.

She honestly had no idea, when would that file be enough?


End file.
